


Seattle Takes Four More

by gerardsjuarez



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Blood and Gore, Car Accidents, Drinking, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, One Shot, brief romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-18
Updated: 2018-08-18
Packaged: 2019-06-29 02:30:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15720135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gerardsjuarez/pseuds/gerardsjuarez
Summary: Seattle, a place where musicians thrive or die.





	Seattle Takes Four More

**Author's Note:**

> I don't usually write such sad pieces but I'm going through a lot as of late. This was my way of venting and/or expressing all the stuff I'm going through. If you're reading this, you're in for a ride.

With the door shut and invisible eyes on him, he collapsed. Never in his life did he feel so… so alone. He always had someone. Whether it be Mikey, or his mom, or Ray, or Frank, or hell, even Bob! But they were gone. They were all gone. 

 

It had happened at 4 am. Gerard was told that he should be the DD for everyone on a rainy night after a gig in Seattle. Gerard was sober and being in a bar was fine but it wasn’t fine seeing the people he loved choosing to get so drunk, they forgot their own names. Mikey ended up slapping some dude, Ray had fallen asleep on Bob’s shoulder, and Frank had mostly been weaving his way through the crowd of dancing girls, seeing who he could get lucky with, perhaps.

 

And Gerard had just stood there, frantic and unnaturally cold. So, so cold. He scanned the crowd, hoping to maybe spot a flash of tattoos and red and black hair but to no avail; Frank had dissolved in the crowd like alka seltzer in water. And just like the act of drinking that diluted water, he had a bitter taste in his mouth.

 

The diet coke in his hand had grown warm some time ago but he kept it in his hand. (The quote ‘he just likes to hold it’ from Back to the Future came to mind.) They had borrowed a car from one of the dudes from The Used to get to the damn place. They were blowing off some steam before heading out to the next tour date. Well, the others were; Gerard felt like a tea kettle without an air hole.

 

“Dia oh eye ke ooo?” A muffled voice had said beside him.

 

When he turned his head, it had been Frank, slightly tipsy and looking ever-so-serious. Gerard knew he had said something and that he was just too empty and hollow at the moment to process anything around him. Unsure of what he said, and too awkward to ask, Gerard just nodded. Apparently, this had been the wrong thing to do because Frank’s eyes went wide with surprise.

 

“You do? Was - did Mikey tell you?” He had stumbled while trying to get closer to Gerard, leaning against the counter and playing it cool.

 

He had frowned, “Tell me what?”

 

“Um.” Frank had looked around and tried his best to speak quiet enough so that only Gerard could hear him, “You - you don’t know then? That I like you?”

 

Oh.

 

“Oh. Why is that a secret?”

 

“No! No, I mean like… fucking hell, I’ll just show you what I mean.”

 

There was a split second of confusion and an awkward thigh grope before their faces finally met in a weird but not drunken kiss. At that point in the night, his thoughts just said ‘what the hell’ and kissed back despite never even knowing about Frank’s feelings in the first place. It was nice. He was a good kisser and Gerard really needed something to distract him and bring him back to reality. He had set the glass of diet coke on the counter to hold the hand on his thigh and once their fingers were interlocked, Frank parted.

 

“Wow, uh, I didn’t think it would go that well.” He had chuckled.

 

“Why is that?”

 

The grip around Gerard’s hand was tightened, “You never seemed interested in me.”

 

His heart had dropped from his chest to the pit of his stomach. Oh, that didn’t feel good. Frank must’ve been heartbroken. Of course, he was interested!

 

“How could I not be?” He decided on saying, “You’re handsome, wise, talented, and as I’ve come to find tonight, an _excellent_ kisser.”

 

Frank had beamed at him and the pit turned into a million butterflies. Oh, yeah. He could get used to that, “You have no idea how happy that makes me.”

 

And he would never find out because one more kiss later, he was hauling the drunken members of My Chemical Romance out of the bar and back into tiny ass car that made them all feel like clowns. Ray, Bob, and Mikey sat squished in the back while Frank sat passenger’s seat, hand in Gerard’s. It was odd how quick that had gone. A kiss and a promise drowned out by the EDM in the bar.

 

“I promise to be good to you, you know that, right? I’ve liked you for a long time and I’ll never screw this up. Dead swear, Gerard.” He had said emphatically, gripping both of his hands with a sad expression on his face.

 

Gerard had promised him the same and now, he guessed, they were together. Boyfriends. The closest thing he had had to a boyfriend was a couple months ago with Bert and he hadn’t been sober enough to remember most of it. He did remember how defensive Frank got when it came to Gerard and the pieces lined up in his mind at a stop sign. Frank really did like him. Love him, probably.

 

“The light’s fucking green.” Mikey kicked the back of the driver’s seat.

 

Gerard turned around while easing into the intersection to tell Mikey about how he had to check for traffic anyway since some people on Friday nights blew through empty intersections when the car was t-boned on the right side by a truck.

 

There was no screaming and no audible crash, just a loud, high-pitched ringing and the feeling of glass hitting his skin. And when his senses came to, he could hear the other car drive away. It was as if his soul had been ripped from his body and thrust back in, gasping for air like he had been underwater. He coughed and clutched at the steering wheel, blinking away blood and taking the brave risk of looking at his bandmates.

 

Dead.

 

 _All_ _dead_.

 

Gerard took his hand away from Frank’s, breath caught in his lungs. His hand was slick with blood he knew not to be his own. Frank’s neck was laying in a direction it shouldn’t, glass and blood on his face and pooling out of his mouth. Mikey’s glasses had been flung from his face, neck snapped like the rest of them. The only one that appeared to have died differently was Ray, the entire right side of his body broken, bent, crushed, and bleeding.

 

“No.” Gerard whispered, ripping the seatbelt off of him and stepping out of the car, ripping his hair out, “No, no, _no_ , _no_! No!”

 

Someone from the nearby drugstore came running out and came to Gerard’s side, asking him if he was okay and he was so delirious he thought it ironic to reply “I’m Not Okay”. The gory photoshoots where they pretended to be dead were fine. Never did he imagine what it would look like if his friends were really dead. About two minutes later, an ambulance with silent sirens came crashing into the scene, ripping his lifelong friends from their resting places and zipped the bags over their faces.

 

_**SEATTLE TAKES FOUR MORE** _

 

_Late last Friday, on the way home from a bar, the members of My Chemical Romance were fatally hit by large Ford pickup truck. All but one member didn’t make it home from the hospital. Gerard is currently back in his apartment in New Jersey, hoping to recover quickly to face the fans - and the press - with the grief of last Friday’s casualties. The driver of the Ford is now being sentenced to jail while the funerals have been announced publicly for all family and friends to attend._

 

The article was such bullshit. They didn't write how he felt. They didn’t write about how much this would impact everyone. No more My Chem. No more Mikey. No more Frank. No more Ray. No more Bob. No more Gerard. He had died with them. It had been six months and he was a shell of a person. A ghost of what once was the frontman of the most dangerous band in the world.

 

Nowadays he spent his waking hours in so much pain. How could he think it would be that easy? Could he just fall in love after playing an amazing show? Could he just finally be happy? God wouldn't let it happen. No one would. There were pictures circulating the internet of the two of them lip-locked at the bar and he didn’t deny them. In fact, he had one framed on his shelf. He had been interviewed about his affair with Frank three times. He spoke of the weird feelings he had always felt for Frank, especially when the band was granted community showers.

 

The funerals had been awful. There were almost a million people there and Gerard was bombarded with a thousand crying girls, telling him how much they were going to miss his bandmates that they never even knew. None of them knew him like he did. He had sat next to Jamia and gripped her hands so tight, he was surprised she could feel them after the hour was over.

 

“We kissed.” Gerard had said to her when they met at the cemetery 3 months ago.

 

She had sighed and rested her head on his shoulder, her hand on the crook of his elbow, “He loved you so very much. You were everything I couldn’t give him.”

 

And now in his bedroom, so very much alone, he couldn’t bring himself to cry. It was pouring outside, the rain seemingly crying for him so he didn’t waste the energy. And with a rush of thoughts and terrible decision making, he pried open the window and jumped onto the fire escape, letting the water soak through his clothes. He blinked up at the sky and climbed the fire escape to the roof where, in a couple of hours, an ambulance would be there to pull the zipper over his own, unresponsive face.


End file.
